


An Unrequited Love

by WondersoftheMultiverse



Category: The Great (2020), The Great (TV 2020), The Great (TV Show), The Great - Fandom
Genre: Catherine the Great - Freeform, Choking, Empress of Russia, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Russia, Set during Season 1 Episode 10, Showing Orlo some love!, Stabbing, The Favourite - Freeform, Unrequited Love?, the great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondersoftheMultiverse/pseuds/WondersoftheMultiverse
Summary: Your heart leapt to your throat as you spotted the fragile frame of Orlo sprawled out across the floor. His back arched inwards as his head lay twisted to the side, blood bubbling forth from a wound on his temple and gracing the side of his cheek. Stumbling forwards you quickly fell to your knees, the hard wood bruising your knees as you desperately rolled his form to the side.“Orlo?” You questioned in a hushed voice, your hands pressed against his cheeks as you sought to rouse him. “Orlo please! It’s me.”
Relationships: Count Orlo / Reader, Count Orlo x Reader, Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/Reader, Orlo x Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	An Unrequited Love

**Author's Note:**

> I binged the series in a weekend and decided I needed to show Orlo some love!  
> If you haven't seen the full series then avoid this fic as there are spoilers for the final episode (episode 10!)  
> Enjoy!

**An Unrequited Love**

Cries of anguish and gunfire echoed around the dimly lit halls of the Russian Palace, its usual pristine floors littered with the bodies of countless men, walls drenched in the thick crimson blood of those who had fallen victim. The stench caused your face to curl in disgust, a hand pressed against your nose as you hiked up your dress and dashed towards the Patriarch’s Apartments.

As soon as you had seen Marial you had demanded to know what had happened, her tone sharp and voice quip as she detailed the course of events. In a flurry she was gone again, rushing back towards the Emperor’s quarters with a look of sorrow and regret. The coup was underway, kicked into action prematurely by the loose trigger finger of Velementov; likely fuelled by his love for a drink.

Of course your first thoughts had been of Orlo, the nervous sharp minded bureaucrat that had caught your eye the moment you had stepped foot in court. Of course without Marial and your knowledge of the blossoming coup within the heart of Russia you would likely have never spoken to the man, his stature and educated tongue dwarfing your own potential. For what success did you have as a lowly maid to one of the many dimwitted women which lined the court walls?

Reaching the tall wooden doors you burst through without a second thought, your hands tightly clutching the handles as you forced it shut behind you. Pressing your weight against the barricade, you allowed your frantic breathing to even out, your chest rising and falling as you panted with exertion. Your ears were attuned to the soft pitter patter of feet outside the doors, men and women heading to and throw as they each sought to be on the winning side of the war.

Turning your attention back to the room, your heart leapt to your throat as you spotted the fragile frame of Orlo sprawled out across the floor. His back arched inwards as his head lay twisted to the side, blood bubbling forth from a wound on his temple and gracing the side of his cheek. Stumbling forwards you quickly fell to your knees, the hard wood bruising your knees as you desperately rolled his form to the side.

“Orlo?” You questioned in a hushed voice, your hands pressed against his cheeks as you sought to rouse him. “Orlo please! It’s me.”

Glancing back towards the door, you felt your fear mount as you pressed your fingertips to his neck, desperately seeking out the familiar thumping of his heart. 

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes fluttered to his face as you watched his soft brown orbs reveal themselves to the world, his gaze drawing across the room before falling upon your features with a heavy sigh. Relief filled you instantaneously as you shifted your arms beneath his figure, heaving him up so you could position him more comfortably against your lap.

Tentatively you ran your fingers through his hair, a small victorious smile filling your features as you watched him shift within your arms.

“What-”

“It’s happening.” You informed quickly, your eyes brimming with tears as for the first time in years you felt your hope restored. “It’s happening!”

A look of astonishment filled the man’s features as his eyes flickered from your lips to your gaze, his hand pressing against the floor as he shifted himself into a sitting position. Slipping to the side, you aided him into resting against the wooden legs of the Patriarch’s desk, your hands wandering from his hair to his neck as you helped him rest against his new form of support.

“It worked?” Orlo questioned, his hands trembling as he gently pressed his fingers to his temple. “The plan was successful?”

You winced as you tilted your head in consideration, your attention shifting to the wound on his head which continued to bleed. Clutching at your skirts, you thanked the lord that serf’s clothes were cheaper and thinner than that of the nobles, your fingers gripping the fraying hem tightly as you tore away a makeshift bandage. 

Orlo merely watched in silence, his eyes gaining more clarity by the second as he seemingly recovered from the blow he had suffered. Forcing a smile, your fingers encircled his wrist as you gently guided his touch away from the wound; replacing it with your own makeshift compress.

“It’s-” You paused, your eyes avoiding his own as you wiped away the blood. “Well… It depends on your definition of success.”

“Fuck” Orlo sighed loudly once more as he rolled his head to the side, his hands pressing to the floor as he began to manoeuver himself once again. “No, No, No….”

You leaned backwards as he moved to stand, his knees trembling beneath his form as he fell back down to the hardwood floor with a crash, his hands splaying outwards and barely catching him in time. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you carefully guided him back into the perched position he had occupied before, your concern for the man mounting as you felt your stomach twist with anxiety.

“You must rest-”

“No!” Orlo countered as he batted your hands away. Frowning you shuffled backwards once again, your knees aching and skin crawling as the cold chill to the room slipped down your spine. “You don’t understand. This has to work, if it does not then we are all as good as dead-”

“We can escape!” You spluttered before you could catch your thoughts, your cheeks flushing a deep red as embarrassment flooded you. “I mean- well- together or we could-”

“You’d propose that we abandon the ideals we have been nurturing for-”

“No!” You cut through, your hands wide as you shook your head in defiance. “Of course not, but perhaps if things look to turn sour then…”

Your eyes cautiously met that of his own, their chocolate orbs shining in the thin veils of light which beamed through the wide windows. Specks of dust floated around you both as the ruckus and cries of men ceased to exist, a moment of peace embracing the palace as a whole. Suddenly a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the sunlight warm against your skin as it burned away the walls you had built to protect your heart.

“Why are you here?” Orlo voiced cautiously, his eyebrow rising inquisitively. “You were supposed to-”

“I know what I was supposed to do.” You snapped harshly, tears welling in your eyes as you felt the fear, anxiety and loneliness bubble over your defences. You were breaking down, your world torn between your head and your heart as you gazed upon the man that had unwittingly stolen both.

You had never thought of yourself as a romantic, your time as a serf in the musty lower levels of the palace had cooled your soul, turned your veins to ice as you rebuked the countless advancements of men and women alike. Your job always had to take precedence, your life constantly on the line for however long Peter and his council of idiots roamed the halls. You had to be focused and quick with your words to survive as long as you had, willing and unbreakable to the insults and roaming hands which were thrown your way. 

Finding out about the coup and joining the ranks was merely an act of rebellion, your will slowly whittled away after years and years of servitude; your mind brought to breaking point. It was supposed to be easy, adhere to Catherine’s orders and hopefully be rewarded once she took control of the courts. What you had never expected, was for your eyes to wander to the tightly strung bureaucrat splayed before you now, had never thought that-

You shook your head as you desperately willed the thoughts away, flashes of your nights spent reading and learning writing in his apartments filling your head. You had started to admire his attitude to life, his punctuation and determination to change the country. It was during those stolen nights that your eyes had memorised every detail which littered his features, from his thick emotive brows to his surprisingly plump and inviting lips. 

Most importantly, you had enjoyed his company during the long dark evenings, your mind happily distracted as warmth blossomed in your abdomen and grew into the burning pit of hope and desire you cradled today.

Temptation to seal your stolen moments with a kiss or a flurry of words had passed your mind countless times, you had even considered announcing your feelings with a crudely written letter or poem; something of which you knew he would appreciate. 

But, as you looked at his wide questioning eyes now you could feel the lead weight of disappointment sink in your chest, your mind darkening at the realisation that he- a man of his standing- would never reciprocate your love. 

“Why Y/N?”

Your eyes fell as you clutched tightly to the torn rag you had used as a compress for his wound, your heart racing in your chest as another thought dawned on you alongside the previous. The true finality of the events which had been casted into motion finally drawing your true feelings free. 

For once, you decided, your heart could rule the roost and drive you forwards. 

Afterall, this could be your final chance.

“Because of you.” You whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek as you sighed deeply. “Marial told me you had been left with Archie and I-”

A sob tore through your throat as you bowed forwards, your fingers pressed to your eyes as you desperately wiped away the tears which poured from you now. Years of emotions had seemingly been dredged from the deep darkness within you, your tears not only for the possible future you could share but of that of the losses you had suffered for years prior.

“Why come for me?” Orlo pushed, his voice soft yet hesitant at the edges. “Anyone else wouldn’t have bothered to come back.”

Steeling your nerves you brought your head high, your shoulders squared as you pushed away the remaining tears which threatened to spill. Orlo watched pensively, his mouth ajar and eyes wide. His gaze was mottled with a variety of emotions, some of which you had expected to see and others… less so. His features flickered between each like a candlelight in the wind, his resulting stare seemingly blank and empty to those who didn’t know him as well as you did.

Truly you could see that he was conflicted, confused. Treading the deep murky waters of which you all found yourself within, desperate to live and thrive.

Now was the time.

“It is a truth very certain that, when it is not in our power to determine the most true opinions-” You paused, your teeth nibbling the edge of your lip as you clawed away at the back of your mind. “-I- we ought to follow the most probable.”

Orlo shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as he seemingly toyed with his own response. 

“Descartes?” 

A champion grin filled your features at the confirmation, your heart swimming with pride for yourself at having recited the passage correctly. “What I’m trying to say is- I think I might-”

Your words were cut short as the wooden door to the Patriarch’s chambers flew open, the black figure of the man himself swanning forwards as he slammed it shut behind him. Clambering to your feet, you turned in shock at the holy man’s entrance, your body shielding that of Orlo’s as he shifted across the floor; his hands clutching at the desk as he tried to pull himself up.

The cold hardened gaze of the Archbishop fell upon your form, a dark chuckle heaving outwards as he stalked forwards with a malicious gaze. “Of course, I should have expected you would be involved in this.”

The Patriarch’s hand slipped beneath his robes as he pulled free a single dagger, the light of the dying sun glinting across its surface as he twisted in his grip. “Such a shame, but god shall forgive your sins should you-”

“Wait!” You exclaimed, your hands high as you tried to appeal to the man’s better nature. “Wait just a second-”

Archie paused in his slow stalking approach, his head tilted to the side as his long wiry beard snagged against the golden chains which hung low around his neck. Behind you Orlo had stilled, his breaths quick and uneven as he seemingly struggled to pull himself up to his feet. Clenching your fists, you stepped forwards with determination, your choices laid clearly out before you.

“What could I offer you?” You tried, your feet shuffling forwards again as you closed the space between you both, your eyes shifting between that of the Patriarch’s and the dazzling dagger clutched tightly in his grip. “What would stop all this madness?”

“ _Y/N_ ” Orlo’s tone whispered, his words carrying with it a warning tinged with concern. “ _Please_ -”

“Nothing you could offer god now will repent for your sins.” The Archbishop beguiled with his usual dramatic flair and finality. His head twisted as he dragged his tongue across his dried lips, eyes narrowed on your form as you froze on the spot. “Only your deaths will heal the damage that has been done.”

Your heart raced uncontrollably as your surge of confidence flourished once more, your feet shifting against the wooden floor as you readied yourself for a fight you knew you would surely lose. Yet still, a spark of hope flourished within you as you eyed the dagger once again. 

“I figured as much.” You stated simply, your body surging forwards.

“Y/N!”

You ignored Orlo’s cries as your body collided with the Patriarchs, your hands encircling his wrist as you forced his arm backwards and into the wooden door. Bringing your face close, you plunged your teeth into his bicep, a loud cry filling the room as he dropped the dagger to the floor with a clatter. 

Filled with success, you shifted your weight to the side with ease, your elbow jutted outwards as you felt it catch the side of his face with an almighty crack. 

“FUCK!” Orlo cried behind you, his words reverberating around the room and mixing with the low groans of the patriarch. 

Stumbling away from the cowering man, you grappled for the dagger on the floor, your goal cruelly ripped from your reach as the man swiped at your legs clear with his foot; your body falling to the ground hard. Crying in shock and pain, you scrambled forwards for the weapon, your fingers clutching at the twisted metal handle as you held it close. Turning you moved to swing at the Patriarch once more, your movements ceased by a sharp jab to the abdomen. 

Your grip on the knife loosened as the weapon was tossed aside, the metal ringing through the room as it slipped across the floor and to the other side of the room. Above you, the Archbishop sneered with anger and disgust, a fresh trail of hot blood cascading from his nose as he restrained your flailing arms with ease. You were pinned beneath him, his foul breath hot against your features as he leaned in close.

“You will pay for this.”

Gritting your teeth you bucked your legs in an attempt to free yourself from his hold, your eyes wide as you watched him levy your pinned arms into a single hold, his free hand pulling away at the chains around his neck. 

Fear raced through you as the chains quickly encircled your own neck, the Patriarch’s hands releasing your own as he pulled tightly on the metal links. You gasped as your fingers slipped against the golden jewellery, desperately seeking the gaps in the chains as you sought to alleviate the pressure which was forced against your throat. The air of the room suddenly felt thin, your lungs heaving as you tried to pull in the oxygen to your lungs. Your neck ached with the pressure as the metal links cut into your skin, the sharp metal biting and cold as it scratched and constricted tightly against you.

Releasing your grip on the chains you took to punching the Patriarch in the arms, your flailing body weakening by the second as you felt the remaining energy your harboured leave you. 

Through blurring vision you gazed at the cold manic eyes of the deranged holy man above you, his pupils narrowed as he seemingly found glee in the pain you suffered. Your heartbeat slowed as it thundered loudly in your ears, your cheeks flourished as your blood rushed to your head.

Your thoughts lingered on that of Orlo and the fate that would seemingly await him once you had been dispatched, you at least hoped that Russia would see the dawn of a new day, a brighter future led by a woman with a good heart and burning passion. You hoped that Orlo would survive this ordeal as he had from his trip to the front, that his usual bubbly persona would continue to thrive despite the slurs and thorny compliments he received from those in court.

You were resigned to your fate when a blurred silhouette hovered in the space beyond the Patriarch’s shoulder, those chocolate orbs burning with determination as he hobbled forwards with care. Opening your mouth you gasped desperately, your hand resting upon the Patriarch’s shoulder as you tried to avoid watching the Archbishop’s approaching fate. 

Darkness toyed at the edge of your vision when the pressure suddenly alleviated from your throat, sweet oxygen flooding your lungs as you choked loudly. Numbly you felt the room spin as the raw cry filled the room, a hot liquid splashing across your face as the weight above you fell away; freeing you from your confines. 

Rolling to the side languidly, you remained limp as you lay sprawled across the floor, your vision wavering and blurred as you struggled to control your breathing. 

_“Y/N”_

Your name on his lips was music to your ears, your eyes flickering to his own as he hovered above you carefully, his hands pressed against your shoulders with a gentleness you had never envisioned a man to hold.

_“Y/N”_

A rogue smile filled your features as you watched his brows furrow in confusion, worry flashing across his eyes as his finger tips pressed down harder against your skin. Giving you a quick shake, you watched lifelessly as Orlo’s gaze fluttered across your figure, his hands wandering as he seemingly searched for something. A clue perhaps?

“Orlo…” You whispered back, your voice cracking and breaking. For a second you had thought you had failed to make a sound, but was quickly rewarded when his soft features filled your vision once again.

_“Hold on.”_

The darkness which had teased you for so long finally claimed its prize, it’s dark tendrils enveloping you entirely and dragging you down into the forgiving embrace of unconsciousness. The sensation of Orlo’s warm arms embracing you filling you with ease, your body light and untethered as you floated into the void.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

You were pulled back to the land of the living by the warmth that surrounded you, the soft plush cushions and furnishings swallowing you whole and threatening to keep you captive. Willingly of course, for the comfort that embraced you now was not that of the small rickety wooden bed in the servants quarters that you had come to expect. The air was fresh and free of the stench of countless servants in close quarters, instead it was light and tinged with the telltale mustiness of old books and fresh ink.

With fluttering eyelids you opened your gaze to the room, the dim flickering light from a fireplace brushing against the walls which you found yourself within. In an instant you recognised the furnishings as that of Count Orlo’s apartments, the walls and tables filled with books and half written parchments. Turning your attention inwards, you noted that you were sprawled across his wide king size bed, your arms resting at your sides and body nestled beneath the thick silk covers. 

Closing your eyes briefly, you inhaled sharply and centered your thoughts. Your neck burned with a passion, the skin red raw and tender and as you hesitantly brought your fingers to it.

“You’re awake!”

You startled as Orlo’s voice erupted from beside you, his hair tousled and unkept as leaned against the side of the bed. Frowning, you took in his dishevelled appearance, his face was paler than it usually was, eyes surrounded by a redness and lined with deep grey circles. Worry niggling in your gut, you extended your hand towards his fidgeting fingers. 

“Orlo?” You croaked, your voice weak and barely there.

Hushing the count scurried off and away from your side, your extended hand left cold and alone amongst the covers as you watched him go. You opened your mouth to speak once more, your voice failing you as the pain that had blossomed across your skin increased tenfold, your chest protesting with every weak breath you drew.

Barely a minute had passed before Orlo returned with a small glass of a clear liquid, his hands thrusting it towards you eagerly. Accepting the drink, you pulled it close, your skin erupting with goosebumps as the count’s hands rested against your skin, pulling you forwards so that he could prop you up with one of the many countless pillows that filled his bed.

Settling back down, you watched skeptically as the man inclined his head towards the drink. “You must drink.”

“W-” You winced as your voice croaked once more, your volume barely above a whisper. “Happ-”

“What happened?” Orlo supplied helpfully, his hand resting against the soft sheets of the bed once more.

Nodding in affirmation you brought the glass to your lips. The water was cool and refreshing to your aching throat, your stomach flipping as you consumed it with ease. You felt yourself chug the water desperately as it saited the aching burn within you, your actions only halted as Orlo’s hands rested against your own; your fingertips entwining as he pulled the glass away with care.

Your heart skipped a beat as the Count eyed you carefully, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard. He seemed to be torn, his eyes shifting nervously as he quickly reached for a nearby jug and poured you another full glass. It was unnerving to see him in such a way, your nerves alight with anticipation as you watched him debate his next words carefully.

Had the coup failed? Had Peter died by Catherines hand? Were you all doomed to die a painful death?

The kindle of hope within you was quickly doused as Orlo’s features became hardened with a resolve, your heart steeling itself for the looming bad news.

“The coup was a success” Orlo recounted, his hands tightening on the glass before pushing it towards you once more. “Slowly, don’t rush. It won’t do you well-”

Nodding you accepted the water with a small smile, the cool liquid flooding your veins as you felt your muscles relax with relief. Your thoughts of happiness were cut short however as the steeled look that had flooded his features flashed across your mind once more. Why had he seemed worried and anxious if the coup was a success?

Bringing the water away from your lips, you felt your skin flush with embarrassment once more. Of course, the ground between you both was now more unstable than it had been before. You had more or less confessed your feelings for him during the chaotic procession of the coup, your words unfocused, stumbling and unclear as you simply recited a vague passage from his favourite philosopher with ease.

Panic flourished within you as you watched Orlo gently take the glass from your fingers, his body arching as he set it aside with the jug. He seemed unsteady as he approached the subject at hand, the butterflies which lined your stomach brustling at the thought.

The poor man was probably agitated by the fact he had been lumbered caring for you as well, his seemingly ‘lack of experience’ with women well known within the palace walls. 

“Orlo-” You started, your face pinched into one of pain as you pushed forwards. “About what I-”

“A man loved by a beautiful woman will always get out of trouble.”

You blinked in shock, confusion quickly replacing the embarrassment and mortification which flooded you. “Um… Descartes?”

“Voltaire.” Orlo corrected with a small smirk, his teeth flashing as he leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “Although, even those aren’t the right words.”

“I did save you.” You jested in kind, eager to move the conversation away from your rebutted advancements.

“Right.” Orlo agreed, his seriousness causing the smile to slip from your face. “ _Please_ don’t-” 

He paused, his hand running through his hair before he leaned forwards. His face looming closer than before as his fingers reached for your own. You barely flinched when his soft skin nestled against your palm, his fingers slipping between your own as though they were both cut from the same tree. His grip tightened around you as his thumb traced across the back of your hand affectionately, his palm clammy and warm as it rested against your own.

Shocked your eyes snapped from your conjoined hands to his eyes, his chocolate orbs glimmering with passion in the low light. Passion and a tinge of regret, fear… acknowledgement.

“Please do not do that again.” Orlo repeated, his lower lip trembling. “Although I appreciate your willingness to throw your life away in place of mine, I feel it would serve both of us best if you refrained from it in the future.”

“W-What-”

Orlo sighed as he rose from the chair slowly, his body shifting further onto the bed as he leaned in closer. Your heart hammered frantically against your chest as you froze in surprise, joy and utter happiness. He had never been so close to you before, so touch orientated and open. The embers of love and hope roared to life within you as the man you had yearned for glanced down at your lips, his eyes filled with unshed tears as he jittered with misplaced energy.

“For years I have sought only one thing… that of a better country- a better life for myself, for the future. Yet despite countless searching, the endless work and misplaced hope-” Orlo paused, his hand tightening in your own as he searched for any sign of rebuttal. 

Nodding slowly you gestured for him to continue, a tear slipping down his cheek as he drew a shaky breath. 

“I fear what I have been searching for has been beside me all along.” 

Your own lips trembled as you drew a small smile, your eyes bright as you bathed in the loving gaze that bore down upon you. Your heart relishing in the victory of your requited love, skin buzzing with excitement and need as you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could, eyes willing and coaxing him to seal the moment between you both.

“Voltaire?” You croaked with a smile.

Orlo laughed lowly, his teeth flashing as he grinned brightly in the flickering light of the room. Your mind lifted at the sight of such an action, the bureaucrat usually so tightly strung and mocked at court beaming with confidence and swirling with affection and love.

“Count Orlo.” He supplied with a smile.

Laughing lightly, you brought your left arm free of the covers slowly, your touch hesitant as you wrapped your arm around his neck. Flickering your gaze between his own, you gently pulled him closer. The space between you both alight with an electric energy as you longed to seal your lips against his own, his scent was sweet and musty at the same time, wrapping around you and stoking the fire which burned brightly in your veins.

Parting his lips, the counts gaze flickered between your own; seemingly seeking permission for his next act. With a small nod, you confirmed his thoughts, the space between you quickly sealed as he rushed forwards with a low hum. 

His lips were soft and supple as they melded with your own, his taste swallowing your senses as your eyes fluttered closed. Although your neck ached with a passion, your mind buzzed with warmth and affection. Your hand slipping free from his own to run your fingers into his hair, nails digging against his scalp as you playfully urged him closer.

Clumsily crawling onto the bed, Orlo reciprocated in kind. His hands pressed against your cheeks as he carefully avoided your throat, teeth nipping lightly against your bottom lip as he sought to deepen the kiss further. You hummed as his tongue merged with your own, his movements careful and calculated, far from the bumbling manner you had always envisioned your first moment together to be. He was soft, warm and inviting all the same, his touch careful and movements precise as he set your skin alight with goosebumps.

Your delight was quickly ceased however as he pulled away sharply, one of his hands resting against the pillows beside you while the other remained pressed against your cheek. The energy you shared hummed with a mutual understanding and passion, a wordless promise being exchanged by just the interlocking of eyes in the dying light of the fire.

You were both bound together, your hearts entwined and ready to face the challenges to come. For although today marked Russia’s rebirth under a new leader, the darkness had yet to fully subside from the country’s grounds. Danger would always be lurking in the shadows, threatening to wrap its cold grip around the source of power to claim as its own. But those were problems for the future, and now you both had found your own pool of light, happiness and warmth; a comfortable solace within each other’s embrace.


End file.
